Rieker stomped through the catacombs of a dead empire, a scowl on his face and his hamr gripped tight. Blood was splattered across his shirt; his heavy-plate would have only slowed him down, and nothing down here was a true threat to him.
Bronwyn had sent a runner for him; the delver said he had sothing interesting for him, though the Iron he’d sent in his place hadn’t been able to share anything about what.
Hardworking bastard he might have been, Bronwyn had always been crap at reports.
Gods, he hated these bloody tunnels — they all had the sa air, made him feel like he was breaking so sacred peace. Felt like he was walking through soone else's crypt.
Almost every ruin of an Empire settlent had a warren like this beneath them. Sprawling sses of interconnected corridors, rooms, and bolt-holes that seed to stretch endlessly. They ranged from tunnels big enough to march a parade through, to passageways low enough he had to stoop.
It was a surprise to find them under Deadacre of all places, but it wouldn’t be the first ti sothing like this had happened. These empire-sublevels were always buried deep, and almost entirely separated from construction above. While most had above ground ruins as well, it was nowhere near all — the Shattering had not been a gentle experience.
Calling the place that this Old Yon had set up down here a ‘safe house’ was a misnor.
Old Yon had simply found a relatively isolated cluster of rooms and built fortifications to control the surrounding tunnels — they may as well have been paper in front of him, let alone with Ro, four Silvers, and three full Steel teams at his back. This particular hideout was only accessible from a single arterial accessway that wound its way through what might have been a full league of the ruins.
He had to give Old Yon one thing, he was at least diligent — he hadn’t relied fully on the base being hidden, he’d done his best to build defences as well.
Taking a left at the next bend, Rieker stayed on the well lit path that marked the areas that the syndicate had refurbished for their use. The shattered wreckage of wooden fortifications scattered the new section of tunnel. Bodies were littered amongst the destruction, though not as many as there could have been.
Raiding this place had been…easy. Far too easy.
A few hundred n scattered across three bases, most were concentrated here and almost all were Bronze, with a rare few at low Iron. They may as well have been a hive of gnats. Once they’d broken through the defenses, few had been stupid enough to fight — the puddles those fools had left behind were more than enough to break the rest.
Most had simply fled — and gotten caught by the teams they had stationed at the entrances. Steel teams were hunting down the ones that had been foolish enough to take their chances with the many unmapped passages scattered through the warren. Even if this wasn’t a military installation, Empire ruins were known as death traps for a reason.
Those who didn’t get lost and starve were just as likely to die from a collapse as they were from a stray rune formation going haywire, or a hairtrigger chanical defense.
Diolin, for all he had brought them information, hadn’t even co close to fully exploring this place — that would be the work of years. A responsibility that would ultimately fall on him. As if his people didn’t have enough shit on their plates.
Rieker scowled, stalking forwards.
The ease with which they had broken the spirits of the defenders worried him. They had co prepared to bring down a full Silver team — if they’d had backing like that, he doubted the gangers would have routed so easily.
Throw in an only partially mapped ruin, known for its convoluted and often hidden passages?
An Onyx rat could have long since slipped his net.
He reminded himself that not all hope was lost. For one, they had done good work here — the slagheap had gotten rough with the destitution that had been foisted upon it. Too many people without hos, and not enough space — fucking phase change. Hopefully, with this ratsnest destroyed, it would get a little better.
Once the ruckus had settled, they’d be able to comb over Old Yon’s base — undoubtedly the man would have missed sothing in his sudden flight, and there was a good chance that one of these cowards knew sothing about wherever Kaius had been taken.
Reaching the centre of the shattered defences, Rieker entered a smaller hallway through an iron-banded door that had been bashed straight out of its hinges. The main base, a clustered collection of rooms that had been converted to sothing resembling barracks, eting rooms, and more.
It was crawling with delvers, each guarding rooms full of surrendered n while they waited for Ro to bring word to the remaining Steel and Iron teams to congregate here — and bring their own prisoners with them.
Once they’d locked this place down, questioning could begin, and they could start ferrying the criminals into the waiting hands of the guards.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not ant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
At the end of the primary corridor that ran the length of the base, he found another shattered door, and Bronwyn standing over a huddled group of half a dozen terrified criminals — all of them having been bound hand to foot.
He cocked his head at the bisected body in the doorway. That wasn’t Bronwyn’s style, and even if blood splattered over the man's enalled light-plate, it wasn’t nearly enough. The rest of the room was equally out of place — a desk and a few empty shelves.
They’d found Old Yon’s office, it seed.
“Bronwyn.”
Rieker stepped over the corpse.
The Silver looked up, “Guildmaster.”
“You do that?” Rieker tilted his head back behind him.
Bronwyn shook his head. “I did not — apparently our quarry got a little testy when soone interrupted a eting with his Silvers to warn him of our arrival.”
He scowled, “A proper bastard then.” Not that he thought that was ever in any doubt.
“Agreed. Found these sorry lot huddled in here quaking in their boots — didn’t even bother with joining the defence.”
The prisoners looked glum, weary, and too rattled by half, but they didn’t say anything to the contrary. A wise decision, all things considered.
“What do you have for ?”
“Well, when I kicked the door in they started blabbing so very interesting things.” he looked down at the closest prisoner, nudging him with an armoured boot. “Didn’t you?”
The man froze. Bronwyn nudged him again. “Co on — I already told you we’re not going to kill you unless you do sothing stupid like try to ram a sword through my eye. So of us have standards. Tell the nice Guildmaster what you told .”
The man sat frozen, eyes rapidly flicking between him and Bronwyn. He broke a few seconds later.
“I…I don’t know much alright? Just what I saw.”
Rieker tilted his head in interest.
“The boss…he was real mad when we arrived, down right screaming at Conte and Torin — you could hear it all the way down the hall. Sothin’ about being stolen from? A vault or sothing, not that I can imagine soone who would be ballsy enough to steal from Old Yon of all people.”
The man gulped, looking at him nervously for signs he’d said sothing wrong.
Rieker’s eyes sharpened, the speck of hope he’d been nursing roaring to life. He smiled.
“Go on.”
The prisoner flinched.
“Uhh, I didn’t hear much else about that bit. Tulmund interrupted them, told them you were coming — Old Yon…he used a skill, cut the man down right in half and slamd the door on the rest of us. We was so shocked that we didn’t even move — heard him screaming about not bein’ able to track soone in the depths and killing so kids after that.”
Rieker could have kissed the man — he settled for a wide grin. They were alive! And they’d given the bastard a swift kick in the teeth while they were at it! Who the fuck broke into a vault during an escape attempt? Those brats were insane — no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. A delve, too? No doubt next ti he saw them their spars would be a little more fraught for a little old man like him.
Hah! Alive! He knew it!
Regardless of his genuine joy, his smile seed to only unnerve their prisoner. The man gulped, and quickened his pace.
“He said he was retreating to sowhere south! Was gonna gather so Silvers and ambush them when they ca out! We heard a loud grinding sound after that — like stone on stone. Thought it musta’ been an escape route. When we heard ye coming we decided to try our luck in here, see if they’d left the route open. Yon and the silvers were gone, but we didn’t have any ti to find the way out.”
The prisoner trailed off, watching him cautiously.
Rieker ignored him, giving Bronwyn a wide and genuine smile.
“Hah! Alive! I fuckin’ told you!”
Stoic as he normally was, Bronwyn returned the gesture, “That you did, Guildmaster — I’m glad to hear I was wrong. What now?”
Slipping his hand to his belt, Rieker threaded mana into the silence artefact he kept attached. An invisible bubble ford around him and Bronwyn, isolating them from the nearby prisoners.
“Easy, you get your team over here, and I’ll call for Ro — I’ll leave investigating this ss to you, you’re less likely to resort to breaking teeth than and Ro. We’ll follow this escape route, see what we can find.”
“And after?”
Rieker shrugged. “Nab this cocksucker if we can, otherwise sit tight and keep as many eyes on the Delves surrounding Deadacre as we can. Knowing that pack of ferals, they’ll be down there for a few months minimum — I want to be ready to jump in the second they co back out.”
Bronwyn raised an eyebrow.
“You can’t track his guild emblem?”
He gave the man an awkward smile, scratching himself behind the ear.
“They might technically have been Bronze when they got nabbed.”
“What?! Why the hells would you delay their rank?”
Because he couldn’t promote them, not at first — just like he couldn’t reward them for all the bloody information he was sitting on without sharing who they were, and why they had earned it. No matter who it was for, breaking guild regulation would get them all strung up by the toes. Even when they had reached Iron, it would have brought attention that the boys were not yet ready for — both from the wider Guild, and those who watched their movents.
So he’d kept silent — even without his oath, it wasn’t his story to tell. And in the end, it had all been for naught; they’d been captured anyway.
“Oh, I’ll let them tell you that. Just wait until ya et ‘em — they’re gonna drive you mad.”
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